


Exceptions

by Nativeinvader



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Wonder Woman (2017) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 19:43:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nativeinvader/pseuds/Nativeinvader
Summary: As a rule, she prefers not to be touched. But she supposes some exceptions can be made ....





	Exceptions

Exceptions

Summary: As a rule, she prefers not be touched. But she supposes some exceptions can be made…

Author’s Note: So yeah, I’m weird. I saw this awesome movie and instead of wanting to write about kick-ass Diana/Wonder Woman … I wanted to write about the bad guys. And their screwed up but potentially fascinating dynamic. Actually, if you follow my writing at all, you shouldn’t be that surprised by this, come to think of it. Anyway, hope you like it!

As a rule, she prefers not be touched. 

But there are exceptions to every rule…

She is scientist. She realizes that physical contact is a behavior which serves a variety of functions. There are the obvious (such as the contact necessary for procreation) and the more basic, banal social gestures, such as handshakes to indicate alliances. There are various ways to combine touch and body language to silently convey meaning, to indicate attachment…

To manipulate.

For her, touch is as unnecessary as it is unwelcome. Once it became clear to her that her disfigurement had rendered her an object of revulsion, someone who would only be touched as an act of charity, she took pains to make herself immune to the dubious charms of it. She supposed there must have a been a time, years ago, when she would have craved touch – as part of a base human instinct, nothing more – but she had overcome the need for such indulgences, which allowed her to focus even more on her work. She could, if she so chose, observe and analyze such crude interactions from a safe distance, but naturally, she prefers to focus more closely on chemical reactions, until she finds what she is looking for. Her notes ae copious, her words precise (however raspy her voice might be), and she sees no need for passion or intensity outside of the realm of her laboratory.

It is this, she supposes, that makes her perfect for his purposes.

And so it is that they enter into a mutually beneficial relationship … such as it is. For her skills, for her brilliance, she is given almost unlimited resources to realize the destructive potential he wants. She is given autonomy, respect, even a modicum of power … power in the only way a woman can wield it.  
Which is to say, through a man.

She has no illusions about General Erich Ludendorff and how he views her. She is the most prized weapon in his arsenal, and he does not forget it. He makes sure that her needs and wants are met, few as they are.

Though it is … somewhat gratifying, she supposes, that he appreciates her intellect. There are other men, she knows, who would dismiss a woman out of hand, because women are supposedly inferior, weak. He is … well, not like that. And she supposes this pleases her, for with his backing, she no longer has to endure the doubts and insults of the men she has faced throughout her career. 

Some of them, she has seen fit to deal with in ways that cannot ever be traced back to her …  
They did say poison was a woman’s weapon, after all.

She takes a grim satisfaction in the moniker they give her. It is good to be respected, but it is better to be feared.  
Erich Ludendorff does not fear hear, however. 

Indeed, his attitude towards her, while never disrespectful is sometimes … disconcerting. 

For one thing, there are times he stands entirely too close to her. His interest in her work, in her progress, is not entirely without merit, and his questions, considering his background is military and not scientific, are often quite insightful, but …

But …

She is not entirely clear what it is that bothers her. Perhaps because the closer he is, the more the threat of accidental physical contact looms, the very thing she strives to avoid at all costs.

And yet, when it happens, it is not accidental, but deliberate. And when he does touch her, she does not flinch or move away.  
The act transpires when she is tired, frustrated.

When she is weak.

“I have every confidence in you, doctor.” The back of his hand brushes her cheek. Not the undamaged one, either – the broken one. His fingers slide smoothly down where skin meets porcelain, where reality meets illusion, as if there is nothing wrong with her, as if this is normal.

As if he has any right to touch her.

As if she has any right to be touched. 

She meets his eyes for a moment. One of the advantages of having half a face is that it guarantees you always give others a frozen, unreadable expression. She could turn her head or step away, but she does not. Instead, she wills her pulse to slow, her breath to stop from catching, and when he looks away, removes his hand, she is strong again, cold again, inoculated against touch, as repulsed by it as the world is by her.

It works beautifully, just as beautifully as her formula does.

At least, the first time.

She does not know if it is stubbornness, or perversity, or what. He does not need to … manipulate her in this way to guarantee her loyalty. He has it, unquestioningly. These … pretenses … conveyed through touch, that most treacherous and sentimental form of human communication … they are completely unnecessary. Surely he must realize that.

Yet he persists all the same. It seems he intends to build up her tolerance, so to speak. A brushed cheek there, a patted shoulder here. A stray piece of hair that is neatly tucked away behind her ear, before she can think to do it herself.

A word whispered in her ear so closely his lips almost touch her skin…

Eventually, she forgets to move away, to stiffen, or even to meet his gaze defiantly. She is no longer so sure her own expression is so impenetrable.  
Pain. That is what she needs. Pain, she understands. Pain is familiar. Pain is endurable.

But this … this …

She can hardly stand it. There must be some way to alleviate these … symptoms. These sensations are ... maddening, maddening…

And so the day comes when, instead of simply allowing his touch, she invites it, however subtly. Moving closer to him, speaking softer to him – as softly as her disfigurement will allow. And when his arms finally wrap around her, as none have before or will again, she leans into his touch, his possession, frightened, angry, bewildered, and utterly, utterly his.

There are, after all, exceptions to every rule.


End file.
